The Battle for Skandia- Character Reaction

19

"Edvin, it's your turn." Hal took the book as they reentered the room and handed the book to the healer.

"Thanks," Edvin replied. He waited until everyone had sat down before beginning to read.

EVANLYN WAS WATCHING WILL PRACTICING HIS SHOOTING. IT was something that Halt had insisted on, once they had reached the relative safety of Hallasholm. Will's speed and accuracy had fallen far below the levels that Halt found acceptable and he wasted no time making his apprentice aware of the fact.

Gilan grimaced in sympathy. Will shook his head, muttering something under his breath.

"Remember the golden rule?" he'd said after he'd watched Will shoot a dozen arrows at different targets set up in a semicircle in front of him, at ranges varying from fifty meters out to two hundred. Most of Will's arrows flew wide of the more distant targets, and it took him far too long to fire the set of twelve shots.

Will pursed his lips in annoyance. "Those stupid—" He cut off his words, flushing slightly as he glanced over at the Skandians. "Sorry."

Erak shook his head. "You're not the one that should be apologizing."

Will had looked up at his mentor, knowing how badly he'd shot. Halt was frowning and shaking his head slightly. Will winced. It made matters worse that Horace and Evanlyn had chosen that moment to come and watch.

"Sorry about that." Horace chuckled in embarrassment. "I should have thought about it." Will shrugged in reply.

"Practice?" he'd replied glumly, and Halt had nodded.

"Funny how less enthusiastic you seem about practice than you did when you first started," Crowley remarked. Will chuckled.

"Practice," he affirmed. As they'd walked out to collect the arrows he'd fired, Halt had dropped a consoling arm around the boy's shoulders.

"Don't feel too bad about it," he told him. "Your technique is still good. But you can't expect to spend the winter making snowmen in the mountains and retain your edge."

"Making snowmen?" Gilan repeated, one eyebrow raised. Halt smirked.

"Making snowmen?" Will replied indignantly. "I'll have you know things were pretty rough up in the mountains . . ." He stopped as he realized that Halt had been pulling his leg. Gilan relaxed. He had to admit that the Ranger was right, however. The only way to attain the almost instinctive accuracy and speed with the bow that were the hall-marks of a Ranger was to practice, constantly and assiduously. All the Rangers made a face.

Over the following days, he took himself to the practice area and gave himself over to the task of perfecting his skills once more. As his old skill returned, along with his strength and fitness, a small crowd would follow and watch. Will flushed. Even though Will couldn't boast the skill levels of a full-fledged Ranger—Halt, Gilan, and Crowley raised an eyebrow—his ability was far above that of normal archers and he was regarded by Skandians and some of the slaves with a deal of respect.

Evanlyn and Horace, however, seemed to find plenty of other things to fill their days—riding and hiking in the nearby woods, or sometimes taking a small skiff out on the bay. "Insanity," Halt muttered. Of course, they had asked Will to join them, but each time, he had replied that he had to attend to his practice. Gilan raised an eyebrow, while Halt smirked.

There were times when he could have gone. But even on these occasions, his feelings injured, he begged off, claiming the need for extra work sessions.

Will banged his head against the table. "Let me know when this is over," he muttered. Alyss smiled and patted his back.

The practice sessions were intensified when Erak produced the double knife scabbard that Will had been wearing when he and Evanlyn had been captured by the Skandians. Erak, a true hoarder, had kept the weapons and now saw fit to return them to their rightful owner. "And thank gGd for that," Halt muttered. A word from Halt let Will know that he would soon be tested for his knife-throwing skills as well. Experience had taught Will by now that the long months without practice would have eroded his abilities in this area too. So he set about restoring them. The township of Hallasholm soon rang to the repetitive thud of his throwing knife and saxe knife striking point first into a target of soft pinewood.